Moving In
by hollyhock and iris
Summary: Molly is too out of it for her own good, and Lucy knows it. -Molly moves in with Lucy's friend's step-father, and things get complicated, as they are apt to do. Originally for screamsevi's Cross-Gen Competition but clearly no longer. Rated T for language and innuendo-ishness. Feedback appreciated!


**A/N: Originally for screamsevi's ****_Cross-Gen Competition_**** but clearly no longer. Please leave feedback, because I don't know if this should be a boring old multichap or just a boring old oneshot. Any response is vital to the health and well being of my muse, and don't you forget it.**

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Molly is too out of it for her own good, and Lucy knows that.

Lucy's only four years younger than Molly, so she can tell if Molly's gone too far. Normally, Molly watches herself: doesn't take risks, keeps to her duties and things like that. So it's quite a spectacle when Molly fucks up.

Lucy's a conservative little daddy's girl. Not that Molly's not a daddy's girl as well, but she's as liberal as a respectable pure-blooded Weasley can get. It's no longer unusual for Lucy to catch her sister snogging a younger bloke or chugging a pint of gillywine or firewhiskey or butterbeer or apple-flavoured piss in a fruitless attempt to 'write'.

Angsty writers don't drink that much liquid.

At least, Lucy thinks so. She's never quite been keen on writing, non-fiction or otherwise. NEWT-level Muggle Studies gave her her fill of dramatic poetry assignments, and she wouldn't dare to fill her head or her precious parchment with Molly's psycho-babble.

Molly's still the perfect sister, though. If that makes sense.

Well, she _was_ perfect, until she started seeing the Zabini patriarch's cousin, Blaine, or Blake, or Bastard. Something like that. It's absolutely revolting, considering that Lucy's best friend and idol through her fourth year happens to be Bastard's step-daughter. Now, Lucy's only a younger sister, a pretty enough girl who could get a bloke if she wanted one, a basic gawky post-teenager who has yet to give up her flower while her older sister's probably shredded the petals of hers and shat on it already. But, strangely enough, Lucy has a bad feeling about Bastard Zabini and Molly that she's sure she can chalk up to protectiveness. If Molly goes and does something positively stupid like move in with him, Lucy might Apparate to Albania and hide in a tree or something.

But when Molly invades Lucy's room and announces in an unnaturally-cheerful tone that she's packing her things for Bastard's mansion, Lucy's not so sure.

'Blaise owled me yesterday, told me to pack up and move in with him. Isn't that ex_citing_?' Exciting, hell. Lucy finds herself rolling her eyes, but she disguises it as she turns away.

'Now why would you want to go and do that?' she mutters.

'Say again?' Lucy can feel Molly's eyes aiming daggers between her shoulder blades. It's not like Molly's mastery of bitchiness via voice isn't doing wonders along her spine, either.

Lucy turns around. 'I was wondering if I could help you pack.'

'Oh, excuse me. My ears are getting old with me, then!' Lucy finds it very hard to fight the logic that hating one part of someone is hating every single other aspect of them too. Like, laughter. Tinkling laughter, especially. 'But now why would you want to go and do that? Here. _Pack_. You seem to have forgotten I had this little thing on me, didn't you?' And twirling things between your fingers. _Hypocrite_, she chides herself.

_Bzzzt. Bzt bzt bzzzzzt._

'That'll be him, now, move yourself out of the way, would you?' Molly sidesteps Lucy and the buzzing of the ringer is cut short within three seconds. Lucy tiptoes quickly through the corridor and halts at a corner.

Of course they kiss.

Of course he picks her up and wraps a hand round her waist, the other one laced through her hair for safekeeping. Obviously she just has to pop her foot at an angle. And clearly he has to break away, his body perfectly fitting into hers despite her being two sizes small, with a fresh coat of lipstick.

'You must be Blaise, then.' Lucy hasn't made a one-liner that cool since she can remember. She also can't remember the last time Molly kissed some old bloke in public.

There's the tinkling. 'Haha, I just forgot to introduce you two.' Molly detaches herself smoothly and strides neatly to the center of the room. Lucy makes sure Blaise's look of longing isn't gone unnoticed. 'Lucy, Blaise Zabini. Lucy is my younger sister—as you probably knew, love.'

'I thought I didn't need any introduction.'

What a voice. Deep, silky, each syllable flowing into the other, another hammer struck in a grand, olive-skinned piano. If Lucy hadn't caught herself, she might have fallen for Blaise. When did she start calling him Blaise?

Bastard, probably the safest considering Lucy's relation to Jessica Zabini and where Molly's hands had gone, smirks. There's no better proof connecting him to his step-daughter, and there's no worse, either.

'Lucy, shake!' Molly quickly shoots Lucy the start of a glare and suddenly Lucy's hands are warm. Both of them: he's a double hand-shaker. He's shifted from sex toy to stepdad in a split-second, and Lucy's wearing the same grin she couldn't help herself from wearing when they met. Lucy looks up and silently thanks anyone who'd listen for the three inches of height she has on Molly. Then she steps back, holding onto her observant point of view, and wipes the grin off her face. Bastard's still got lipstick on.

'Aren't you . . . going to leave now?'

"Oh, Lucy. They all want us to leave, don't they, love?" Bastard murmurs noncommitally into Molly's neck, and the fake love bite is all Lucy can do to stop from rolling her eyes. Molly's hand on Bastard's head looks like something out of the romance novels stacked on Molly's desk when she was feeling particularly lonely. Clearly this isn't an issue now.

Bastard pulls away slowly enough, as if held by a cord in some sort of outer space, and searched for Molly's eyes with his own. This is a sign to Molly that yes, they should leave. She gasps, and Lucy's eyes narrow ever so slightly.

'Lucy!' she says. 'Help us with the baggage, won't you?'

It always ends up with the single one carrying all the baggage while the couple dances with rose petals under their heels. Today's no exception. Lucy can't help but smile at her strength, an area she failed to recognise her expertise in until today. She nearly skids to a halt as Molly turns back to her. 'Give me these,' she says, scooping things into her arms, 'and Blaise will have the rest.' Lucy pauses, straightening her back and sneaking a glance at Bastard. 'Oh, for Merlin,' and Lucy can hear Molly's namesake shining through. '_Please?_'

Lucy swallows quickly and hands Bastard a package cradled in one arm and a gliding case trailing behind her, attached only to a handle she grasps a bit more tightly than she had a few seconds before. At least, she tries. She holds them out, anyway, but he doesn't accept.

He just looks at her. His eyes glimmer, his Adam's apple bobs, and he seems particularly dumbstruck. With a flattering shade of cherry-red lipstick on his lips.

Lucy laughs because she isn't sure what to do. She knows Molly noticed, but she isn't sure that she herself has. Something clicks. It just takes a moment to glance back as Molly's babydoll face slowly fills with red. And Lucy decides she should probably fall in love with Blaise Zabini.

_When did she start calling him Blaise?_


End file.
